Every evening lights up the candles for me,
And the smoke fumigates your image so fine...
But I donít want to know that time can cure,
That everything passes together with time.
Now Iíll never free myself from rest,
All the things that the soul needs to keep -
Without ever knowing, she took it with her,
First to the port, and then to the ship...
Every evening lights up the candles for me,
And the smoke fumigates your image so fine...
But I donít want to know that time can cure,
That everything passes together with time.
My soul is nothing but a deserted desert.
Then why are you standing above my empty soul?
It has torn pieces of my songs, and also cobweb -
And the rest she took along with her.
Every evening lights up the candles for me,
And the smoke fumigates your image so fine...
But I donít want to know that time can cure,
That everything passes together with time.
Now in my soul all aims are without a road,
Just dig in it and you will find some sense -
Two half phrases, half dialogues,
And all the rest - Paris and France.
Every evening lights up the candles for me,
And the smoke fumigates your image so fine...
But I donít want to know that time can cure -
Time cannot heal us, it can only hurt us,
Indeed, everything passes together with time.